Chapter XLIII: Canto II (7)

[443:3] From an hitherto unpublished MS., formerly in the possession of Coleridge's friend and amanuensis Joseph Henry Green.

[444:1] _The Private Journal of Captain G. F. Lyon of the Mt. Hecla, during the recent voyage of discovery under Captain Parry_, was published by John Murray in 1824. In a letter dated May, 1823, Lucy Caroline Lamb writes to Murray:--'If there is yet time, do tell Captain Lyon, that I, and others far bettor than I am, are enchanted with his book.' _Memoirs . . . of John Murray_, 1891, i. 145.

[446:1] A coast village near Ramsgate. Coleridge passed some weeks at Ramsgate in the late autumn of 1824.

WORK WITHOUT HOPE[447:1]

LINES COMPOSED 21ST FEBRUARY 1825

All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair--
The bees are stirring--birds are on the wing--[447:2]
And Winter slumbering in the open air,
Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring!
And I the while, the sole unbusy thing, 5
Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.

Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow,
Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow.
Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may,
For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away! 10
With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll:
And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul?
Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve,
And Hope without an object cannot live.

1825.

FOOTNOTES:

[447:1] First printed in the _Bijou_ for 1828: included in 1828, 1829, and 1834. These lines, as published in the _Bijou_ for 1828, were an excerpt from an entry in a notebook, dated Feb. 21, 1825. They were preceded by a prose introduction, now for the first time printed, and followed by a metrical interpretation or afterthought which was first published in the Notes to the Edition of 1893. For an exact reproduction of the prose and verse as they appear in the notebook, vide Appendices of this edition.

[447:2] Compare the last stanza of George Herbert's _Praise_:--

O raise me thus! Poor Bees that work all day,
Sting my delay,
Who have a work as well as they,
And much, much more.

LINENOTES:

Title] Lines composed on a day in February. By S. T. Coleridge, Esq. Bijou: Lines composed on the 21st of February, 1827 1828, 1829, 1834.

[1] Slugs] Snails erased MS. S. T. C.: Stags 1828, 1829, 1885.

[11]

{ With unmoist lip and wreathless brow I stroll
{ With lips unmoisten'd wreathless brow I stroll MS. S. T. C.

_SANCTI DOMINICI PALLIUM_[448:1]

A DIALOGUE BETWEEN POET AND FRIEND

FOUND WRITTEN ON THE BLANK LEAF AT THE BEGINNING OF BUTLER'S 'BOOK OF THE CHURCH' (1825)

POET

I note the moods and feelings men betray,
And heed them more than aught they do or say;
The lingering ghosts of many a secret deed
Still-born or haply strangled in its birth;
_These_ best reveal the smooth man's inward creed! 5
_These_ mark the spot where lies the treasure--Worth!

Milner, made up of impudence and trick,[448:2]
With cloven tongue prepared to hiss and lick,
Rome's Brazen Serpent--boldly dares discuss
The roasting of thy heart, O brave John Huss! 10
And with grim triumph and a truculent glee[448:3]
Absolves anew the Pope-wrought perfidy,
That made an empire's plighted faith a lie,
And fix'd a broad stare on the Devil's eye--
(Pleas'd with the guilt, yet envy-stung at heart 15
To stand outmaster'd in his own black art!)
Yet Milner--

FRIEND

Enough of Milner! we're agreed,
Who now defends would then have done the deed.
But who not feels persuasion's gentle sway,
Who but must meet the proffered hand half way 20
When courteous Butler--

POET (_aside_)

(Rome's smooth go-between!)

FRIEND

Laments the advice that soured a milky queen--
(For 'bloody' all enlightened men confess
An antiquated error of the press:)
Who rapt by zeal beyond her sex's bounds, 25
With actual cautery staunched the Church's wounds!
And tho' he deems, that with too broad a blur
We damn the French and Irish massacre,
Yet _blames_ them both--and thinks the Pope _might_ err!
What think you now? Boots it with spear and shield 30
Against such gentle foes to take the field
Whose beckoning hands the mild Caduceus wield?

POET

What think I now? Even what I thought before;--
What Milner boasts though Butler may deplore,
Still I repeat, words lead me not astray 35
When the _shown_ feeling points a different way.
Smooth Butler can say grace at slander's feast,[449:1]
And bless each haut-gout cook'd by monk or priest;
Leaves the full lie on Milner's gong to swell,
Content with half-truths that do just as well; 40
But duly decks his mitred comrade's flanks,[450:1]
And with him shares the Irish nation's thanks!

So much for you, my friend! who own a Church,
And would not leave your mother in the lurch!
But when a Liberal asks me what I think-- 45
Scared by the blood and soot of Cobbett's ink,
And Jeffrey's glairy phlegm and Connor's foam,
In search of some safe parable I roam--
An emblem sometimes may comprise a tome!

Disclaimant of his uncaught grandsire's mood, 50
I see a tiger lapping kitten's food:
And who shall blame him that he purs applause,
When brother Brindle pleads the good old cause;
And frisks his pretty tail, and half unsheathes his claws!
Yet not the less, for modern lights unapt, 55
I trust the bolts and cross-bars of the laws
More than the Protestant milk all newly lapt,
Impearling a tame wild-cat's whisker'd jaws!

1825, or 1826.

FOOTNOTES:

[448:1] First published in the _Evening Standard_, May 21, 1827. 'The poem signed ΕΣΤΗΣΕ appeared likewise in the _St. James's Chronicle_.' See Letter of S. T. C. to J. Blanco White, dated Nov. 28, 1827. _Life_, 1845, i. 439, 440. First collected in 1834. I have amended the text of 1834 in lines 7, 17, 34, 39 in accordance with a MS. in the possession of the poet's granddaughter, Miss Edith Coleridge. The poem as published in 1834 and every subsequent edition (except 1907) is meaningless. Southey's _Book of the Church_, 1825, was answered by Charles Butler's _Book of the Roman Catholic Church_, 1825, and in an anonymous pamphlet by the Vicar Apostolic, Dr. John Milner, entitled _Merlin's Strictures_. Southey retaliated in his _Vindiciae Ecclesiae Anglicanae_, 1826. In the latter work he addresses Butler as 'an honourable and courteous opponent'--and contrasts his 'habitual urbanity' with the malignant and scurrilous attacks of that 'ill-mannered man', Dr. Milner. In the 'Dialogue' the poet reminds his 'Friend' Southey that Rome is Rome, a 'brazen serpent', charm she never so wisely. In the _Vindiciae_ Southey devotes pp. 470-506 to an excursus on 'The Rosary'--the invention of St. Dominic. Hence the title--'Sancti Dominici Pallium'.

[448:2] These lines were written before this Prelate's decease. _Standard, 1827._

[448:3] Trŭcŭlĕnt: a tribrach as the isochronous substitute for the Trochee ¯ ˘. N. B. If our accent, a _quality_ of sound were actually equivalent to the _Quantity_ in the Greek ¯ ˘ ¯, or dactyl ¯ ˘ ˘ at least. But it is not so, accent shortens syllables: thus Spīrĭt, sprite; Hŏnĕy, mŏnĕy, nŏbŏdy, &c. _MS. S. T. C._

[449:1] 'Smooth Butler.' See the Rev. Blanco White's Letter to C. Butler, Esq. _MS. S. T. C._, _Sd. 1827_.

[450:1] 'Your coadjutor the Titular Bishop Milner'--Bishop of Castabala I had called him, till I learnt from the present pamphlet that he had been translated to the see of Billingsgate.' _Vind. Ecl. Angl. 1826_, p. 228, _note_.

LINENOTES:

Title]--A dialogue written on a Blank Page of Butler's Book of the Roman Catholic Church. Sd. 1827.

[7] Milner] ---- 1834, 1852: Butler 1893.

[17] Milner--Milner] ----, ---- 1834, 1852: Butler--Butler 1893. Yet Milner] Yet Miln-- Sd. 1827.

[25] Who with a zeal that passed Sd. 1827.

[30] spear] helm Sd. 1827.

[32] beckoning] proffered Sd. 1827.

[34] Milner] ---- 1834, 1852: Butler 1893. boasts] lauds Sd. 1827.

[35] repeat] reply Sd. 1827.

[38] or] and Sd. 1827.

[39] Milner's] ----'s 1834, 1852: Butler's 1893.

[42] Irish] the O'Gorman MS. S. T. C., Sd. 1827.

[46] blood and soot] soot and blood Sd. 1827.

[55] lights] sights Sd. 1827.

SONG[450:2]

Though veiled in spires of myrtle-wreath,
Love is a sword which cuts its sheath,
And through the clefts itself has made,
We spy the flashes of the blade!
But through the clefts itself has made 5
We likewise see Love's flashing blade,
By rust consumed, or snapt in twain;
And only hilt and stump remain.

? 1825.

FOOTNOTES:

[450:2] First published in 1828: included in 1852, 1885, and 1893. A MS. version (undated) is inscribed in a notebook.

LINENOTES:

Title] Love, a Sword 1893.

[1] Tho' hid in spiral myrtle wreath MS.

[2] which] that MS.

[3] slits itself hath made MS.

[4] flashes] glitter MS.

[5] clefts] slits MS.

[6-8]

We spy no less, too, that the Blade,
Is cut away or snapt atwain
And nought but Hilt or Stump remain.

MS.

A CHARACTER[451:1]

A bird, who for his other sins
Had liv'd amongst the Jacobins;
Though like a kitten amid rats,
Or callow tit in nest of bats,
He much abhorr'd all democrats; 5
Yet nathless stood in ill report
Of wishing ill to Church and Court,
Tho' he'd nor claw, nor tooth, nor sting,
And learnt to pipe God save the King;
Tho' each day did new feathers bring, 10
All swore he had a leathern wing;
Nor polish'd wing, nor feather'd tail,
Nor down-clad thigh would aught avail;
And tho'--his tongue devoid of gall--
He civilly assur'd them all:-- 15
'A bird am I of Phoebus' breed,
And on the sunflower cling and feed;
My name, good Sirs, is Thomas Tit!'
The bats would hail him Brother Cit,
Or, at the furthest, cousin-german. 20
At length the matter to determine,
He publicly denounced the vermin;
He spared the mouse, he praised the owl;
But bats were neither flesh nor fowl.
Blood-sucker, vampire, harpy, goul, 25
Came in full clatter from his throat,
Till his old nest-mates chang'd their note
To hireling, traitor, and turncoat,--
A base apostate who had sold
His very teeth and claws for gold;-- 30
And then his feathers!--sharp the jest--
No doubt he feather'd well his nest!
'A Tit indeed! aye, tit for tat--
With place and title, brother Bat,
We soon shall see how well he'll play 35
Count Goldfinch, or Sir Joseph Jay!'
Alas, poor Bird! and ill-bestarr'd--
Or rather let us say, poor Bard!
And henceforth quit the allegoric,
With metaphor and simile, 40
For simple facts and style historic:--
Alas, poor Bard! no gold had he;
Behind another's team he stept,
And plough'd and sow'd, while others reapt;
The work was his, but theirs the glory, 45
_Sic vos non vobis_, his whole story.
Besides, whate'er he wrote or said
Came from his heart as well as head;
And though he never left in lurch
His king, his country, or his church, 50
'Twas but to humour his own cynical
Contempt of doctrines Jacobinical;
To his own conscience only hearty,
'Twas but by chance he serv'd the party;--
The self-same things had said and writ, 55
Had Pitt been Fox, and Fox been Pitt;
Content his own applause to win,
Would never dash thro' thick and thin,
And he can make, so say the wise,
No claim who makes no sacrifice;-- 60
And bard still less:--what claim had he,
Who swore it vex'd his soul to see
So grand a cause, so proud a realm,
With Goose and Goody at the helm;
Who long ago had fall'n asunder 65
But for their rivals' baser blunder,
The coward whine and Frenchified
Slaver and slang of the other side?--

Thus, his own whim his only bribe,
Our Bard pursued his old A. B. C. 70
Contented if he could subscribe
In fullest sense his name Ἔστησε;
('Tis Punic Greek for 'he hath stood!')
Whate'er the men, the cause was good;
And therefore with a right good will, 75
Poor fool, he fights their battles still.
Tush! squeak'd the Bats;--a mere bravado
To whitewash that base renegado;
'Tis plain unless you're blind or mad,
His conscience for the bays he barters;-- 80
And true it is--as true as sad--
These circlets of green baize he had--
But then, alas! they were his garters!
Ah! silly Bard, unfed, untended,
His lamp but glimmer'd in its socket; 85
He lived unhonour'd and unfriended
With scarce a penny in his pocket;--
Nay--tho' he hid it from the many--
With scarce a pocket for his penny!

1825.

FOOTNOTES:

[451:1] First published in 1834. It is probable that the immediate provocation of these lines was the publication of Hazlitt's character-sketch of Coleridge in _The Spirit of the Age_, 1825, pp. 57-75. Lines 1-7, 49, 50, 84, 89 are quoted by J. Payne Collier (_An Old Man's Diary_, Oct. 20, 1833, Pt. IV, p. 56) from a MS. presented by Charles Lamb to Martin Burney. A fragmentary MS. with the lines in different order is in the British Museum.

LINENOTES:

Title] A Trifle MS. J. P. C.

[1] for] 'mongst MS. B. M.

[2] amongst] among J. P. C.

[3] amid] among J. P. C.

[5] all] the J. P. C.

[6] ill] bad J. P. C.

[7] Of ill to Church as well as Court J. P. C.

[11] had a] had but a MS. B. M.

[22] denounced] disowned MS. B. M.

[31] sharp] smoke MS. B. M.

[36] Joseph] Judas MS. B. M.

[69-74]

Yet still pursu'd thro' scoff and gibe
From A. to Z. his old A. B. C.
Content that he could still subscribe
In symbol just his name ΕΣΤΗΣΕ;
(In punic Greek that's He hath stood:)
Whate'er the men, the cause was good.

MS. B. M.

[84] Ah! silly bird and unregarded J. P. C.: Poor witless Bard, unfed, untended MS. B. M.

[86] He liv'd unpraised, and unfriended MS. B. M.: unfriended] discarded J. P. C.

[87] With scarce] Without J. P. C.

THE TWO FOUNTS[454:1]

STANZAS ADDRESSED TO A LADY ON HER RECOVERY WITH UNBLEMISHED LOOKS, FROM A SEVERE ATTACK OF PAIN

'Twas my last waking thought, how it could be
That thou, sweet friend, such anguish should'st endure;
When straight from Dreamland came a Dwarf, and he
Could tell the cause, forsooth, and knew the cure.

Methought he fronted me with peering look 5
Fix'd on my heart; and read aloud in game
The loves and griefs therein, as from a book:
And uttered praise like one who wished to blame.

In every heart (quoth he) since Adam's sin
Two Founts there are, of Suffering and of Cheer! 10
That to let forth, and this to keep within!
But she, whose aspect I find imaged here,

Of Pleasure only will to all dispense,
That Fount alone unlock, by no distress
Choked or turned inward, but still issue thence 15
Unconquered cheer, persistent loveliness.

As on the driving cloud the shiny bow,
That gracious thing made up of tears and light,
Mid the wild rack and rain that slants below
Stands smiling forth, unmoved and freshly bright; 20

As though the spirits of all lovely flowers,
Inweaving each its wreath and dewy crown,
Or ere they sank to earth in vernal showers,
Had built a bridge to tempt the angels down.

Even so, Eliza! on that face of thine, 25
On that benignant face, whose look alone
(The soul's translucence thro' her crystal shrine!)
Has power to soothe all anguish but thine own,

A beauty hovers still, and ne'er takes wing,
But with a silent charm compels the stern 30
And tort'ring Genius of the bitter spring,
To shrink aback, and cower upon his urn.

Who then needs wonder, if (no outlet found
In passion, spleen, or strife) the Fount of Pain
O'erflowing beats against its lovely mound, 35
And in wild flashes shoots from heart to brain?

Sleep, and the Dwarf with that unsteady gleam
On his raised lip, that aped a critic smile,
Had passed: yet I, my sad thoughts to beguile,
Lay weaving on the tissue of my dream; 40

Till audibly at length I cried, as though
Thou hadst indeed been present to my eyes,
O sweet, sweet sufferer; if the case be so,
I pray thee, be less good, less sweet, less wise!

In every look a barbéd arrow send, 45
On those soft lips let scorn and anger live!
Do any thing, rather than thus, sweet friend!
Hoard for thyself the pain, thou wilt not give!

1826.

FOOTNOTES:

[454:1] First published in the _Annual Register_ for 1827: reprinted in the _Bijou_ for 1828: included in 1828, 1829, 1834. 'In Gilchrist's _Life of Blake_ (1863, i. 337) it is stated that this poem was addressed to Mrs. Aders, the daughter of the engraver Raphael Smith.' _P. W._, 1892, p. 642.

LINENOTES:

Title]: Stanzas addressed to a Lady on her Recovery from a Severe attack of Pain Annual Register.

[11] That--this] _That--this_ 1828, 1829.

[14] That] _That_ 1828, 1829.

[16-17] In a MS. dated 1826, the following stanza precedes stanza 5 of the text:--

Was ne'er on earth seen beauty like to this.
A concentrated satisfying sight!
In its deep quiet, ask no further bliss--
At once the form and substance of delight.

[19-20]

Looks forth upon the troubled air below
Unmov'd, entire, inviolably bright.

MS. 1826.

[31] tort'ring] fost'ring Annual Register, Bijou.

[44] less--less--less] _less--less--less_ 1828, 1829.

[47] any] _any_ 1828, 1829.

CONSTANCY TO AN IDEAL OBJECT[455:1]

Since all that beat about in Nature's range,
Or veer or vanish; why should'st thou remain
The only constant in a world of change,
O yearning Thought! that liv'st but in the brain?
Call to the Hours, that in the distance play, 5
The faery people of the future day----
Fond Thought! not one of all that shining swarm
Will breathe on thee with life-enkindling breath,
Till when, like strangers shelt'ring from a storm,[456:1]
Hope and Despair meet in the porch of Death! 10
Yet still thou haunt'st me; and though well I see,
She is not thou, and only thou art she,
Still, still as though some dear embodied Good,
Some living Love before my eyes there stood
With answering look a ready ear to lend, 15
I mourn to thee and say--'Ah! loveliest friend!
That this the meed of all my toils might be,
To have a home, an English home, and thee!'
Vain repetition! Home and Thou are one.
The peacefull'st cot, the moon shall shine upon, 20
Lulled by the thrush and wakened by the lark,
Without thee were but a becalméd bark,
Whose Helmsman on an ocean waste and wide
Sits mute and pale his mouldering helm beside.

And art thou nothing? Such thou art, as when 25
The woodman winding westward up the glen
At wintry dawn, where o'er the sheep-track's maze
The viewless snow-mist weaves a glist'ning haze,
Sees full before him, gliding without tread,
An image[456:2] with a glory round its head; 30
The enamoured rustic worships its fair hues,
Nor knows he makes the shadow, he pursues!

? 1826.

FOOTNOTES:

[455:1] There is no evidence as to date of composition. J. D. Campbell (1893, p. 635) believed that it 'was written at Malta'. Line 18 seems to imply that the poem was not written in England. On the other hand a comparison of ll. 9, 10 with a passage in the _Allegoric Vision_, which was re-written with large additions, and first published in 1817, suggests a much later date. The editors of 1852 include these lines among 'Poems written in Later Life', but the date (? 1826) now assigned is purely conjectural. First published in 1828: included in 1829 and 1834.

[456:1] With lines 9, 10 J. D. Campbell compares, 'After a pause of silence: even thus, said he, like two strangers that have fled to the same shelter from the same storm, not seldom do Despair and Hope meet for the first time in the porch of Death.' _Allegoric Vision_ (1798-1817); vide Appendices of this edition.

[456:2] This phenomenon, which the Author has himself experienced, and of which the reader may find a description in one of the earlier volumes of the _Manchester Philosophical Transactions_, is applied figuratively to the following passage in the _Aids to Reflection_:--

'Pindar's fine remark respecting the different effects of Music, on different characters, holds equally true of Genius--as many as are not delighted by it are disturbed, perplexed, irritated. The beholder either recognises it as a projected form of his own Being, that moves before him with a Glory round its head, or recoils from it as a Spectre.'--_Aids to Reflection_ [1825], p. 220.

LINENOTES:

[8] thee] _thee_ 1828, 1829.

[13] embodied] _embodied_ 1828, 1829.

[14] living] _living_ 1828, 1829.

[32] makes] _makes_ 1828, 1829.

THE PANG MORE SHARP THAN ALL[457:1]

AN ALLEGORY

I

He too has flitted from his secret nest,
Hope's last and dearest child without a name!--
Has flitted from me, like the warmthless flame,
That makes false promise of a place of rest
To the tired Pilgrim's still believing mind;-- 5
Or like some Elfin Knight in kingly court,
Who having won all guerdons in his sport,
Glides out of view, and whither none can find!

II

Yes! he hath flitted from me--with what aim,
Or why, I know not! 'Twas a home of bliss, 10
And he was innocent, as the pretty shame
Of babe, that tempts and shuns the menaced kiss,
From its twy-cluster'd hiding place of snow!
Pure as the babe, I ween, and all aglow
As the dear hopes, that swell the mother's breast-- 15
Her eyes down gazing o'er her claspéd charge;--
Yet gay as that twice happy father's kiss,
That well might glance aside, yet never miss,
Where the sweet mark emboss'd so sweet a targe--
Twice wretched he who hath been doubly blest! 20

III

Like a loose blossom on a gusty night
He flitted from me--and has left behind
(As if to them his faith he ne'er did plight)
Of either sex and answerable mind
Two playmates, twin-births of his foster-dame:-- 25
The one a steady lad (Esteem he hight)
And Kindness is the gentler sister's name.
Dim likeness now, though fair she be and good,
Of that bright Boy who hath us all forsook;--
But in his full-eyed aspect when she stood, 30
And while her face reflected every look,
And in reflection kindled--she became
So like Him, that almost she seem'd the same!

IV

Ah! he is gone, and yet will not depart!--
Is with me still, yet I from him exiled! 35
For still there lives within my secret heart
The magic image of the magic Child,
Which there he made up-grow by his strong art,
As in that crystal[458:1] orb--wise Merlin's feat,--
The wondrous 'World of Glass,' wherein inisled 40
All long'd-for things their beings did repeat;--
And there he left it, like a Sylph beguiled,
To live and yearn and languish incomplete!

V

Can wit of man a heavier grief reveal?
Can sharper pang from hate or scorn arise?-- 45
Yes! one more sharp there is that deeper lies,
Which fond Esteem but mocks when he would heal.
Yet neither scorn nor hate did it devise,
But sad compassion and atoning zeal!
One pang more blighting-keen than hope betray'd! 50
And this it is my woeful hap to feel,
When, at her Brother's hest, the twin-born Maid
With face averted and unsteady eyes,
Her truant playmate's faded robe puts on;
And inly shrinking from her own disguise 55
Enacts the faery Boy that's lost and gone.
O worse than all! O pang all pangs above
Is Kindness counterfeiting absent Love!

? 1825-6.

FOOTNOTES:

[457:1] First published in 1834. With lines 36-43, and with the poem as a whole, compare the following fragments of uncertain date, which were first published in a note to the edition of 1893. Both the poem as completed and these fragments of earlier drafts seem to belong to the last decade of the poet's life. The water-mark of the scrap of paper on which these drafts are written is 1819, but the tone and workmanship of the verse suggest a much later date, possibly 1826.

'---- into my Heart
The magic Child as in a magic glass
Transfused, and ah! he _left_ within my Heart
A loving Image and a counterpart.'

'---- into my Heart
As 'twere some magic Glass the magic child
Transfused his Image and full counterpart;
And then he left it like a Sylph beguiled
To live and yearn and languish incomplete!
Day following day, more rugged grows my path.
There dwells a cloud before my heavy eyes;
A Blank my Heart, and Hope is dead and buried,
Yet the deep yearning will not die; but Love
Clings on and cloathes the marrowless remains,
Like the fresh moss that grows on dead men's bones,
Quaint mockery! and fills its scarlet cups
With the chill dewdamps of the Charnel House.
O ask not for my Heart! my Heart is but
The darksome vault where Hope lies dead and buried,
And Love with Asbest Lamp bewails the Corse.'

[458:1] _Faerie Queene_, b. iii. c. 2, s. 19.

DUTY SURVIVING SELF-LOVE[459:1]

THE ONLY SURE FRIEND OF DECLINING LIFE

A SOLILOQUY

Unchanged within, to see all changed without,
Is a blank lot and hard to bear, no doubt.
Yet why at others' wanings should'st thou fret?
Then only might'st thou feel a just regret,
Hadst thou withheld thy love or hid thy light 5
In selfish forethought of neglect and slight.
O wiselier then, from feeble yearnings freed,
While, and on whom, thou may'st--shine on! nor heed
Whether the object by reflected light
Return thy radiance or absorb it quite: 10
And though thou notest from thy safe recess
Old Friends burn dim, like lamps in noisome air,
Love them for what they are; nor love them less,
Because to thee they are not what they were.

1826.

FOOTNOTES:

[459:1] First published in 1828: included in 1829 and 1834. The MS. of the first draft, dated Sept. 2, 1826, is preceded by the following introductory note:--

'QUESTION, ANSWER, AND SOLILOQUY.

And are _you_ (said Alia to Constantius, on whose head
sickness and sorrow had antedated Winter, ere yet the time of
Vintage had passed), Are you the happier for your Philosophy?
And the smile of Constantius was as the light from a purple
cluster of the vine, gleaming through snowflakes, as he
replied, The Boons of Philosophy are of higher worth, than
what you, O Alia, mean by Happiness. But I will not seem to
evade the question--Am _I_ the happier for my Philosophy? The
calmer at least and the less unhappy, answered Constantius,
for it has enabled me to find that selfless Reason is the best
Comforter, and only sure friend of declining Life. At this
moment the sounds of a carriage followed by the usual bravura
executed on the brazen knocker announced a morning visit: and
Alia hastened to receive the party. Meantime the grey-haired
philosopher, left to his own musings, continued playing with
the thoughts that Alia and Alia's question had excited, till
he murmured them to himself in half audible words, which at
first casually, and then for the amusement of his ear, he
_punctuated_ with rhymes, without however conceiting that he
had by these means changed them into poetry.'

LINENOTES:

[4] When thy own body first the example set. MS. S. T. C.

[5-11] om. MS. S. T. C.

[8] While--on whom] _While--on whom_ 1828, 1829.

[9] object] Body MS. S. T. C.

[13] are] _are_ 1828, 1829.

[14] thee--were] _thee--were_ 1828, 1829.

HOMELESS[460:1]

'O! Christmas Day, Oh! happy day!
A foretaste from above,
To him who hath a happy home
And love returned from love!'

O! Christmas Day, O gloomy day, 5
The barb in Memory's dart,
To him who walks alone through Life,
The desolate in heart.

1826.

FOOTNOTES:

[460:1] First published in the _Literary Magnet_, January, 1827, p. 71. First collected in 1893. A transcript, possibly in Mrs. Gillman's handwriting, is inscribed on the fly-leaf of a copy of Bartram's _Travels in South Carolina_ which Coleridge purchased in April 1818. J. D. Campbell prefixed the title 'Homeless', and assigned 1810 as a conjectural date. Attention was first called to publication in the _Literary Magnet_ by Mr. Bertram Dobell in the _Athenaeum_.

LINENOTES:

Title] An Impromptu on Christmas Day L. M. 1827.

[4] from] for L. M. 1827.

LINES[460:2]

SUGGESTED BY THE LAST WORDS OF BERENGARIUS

OB. ANNO DOM. 1088

No more 'twixt conscience staggering and the Pope
Soon shall I now before my God appear,
By him to be acquitted, as I hope;
By him to be condemnéd, as I fear.--

REFLECTION ON THE ABOVE

Lynx amid moles! had I stood by thy bed, 5
Be of good cheer, meek soul! I would have said:
I see a hope spring from that humble fear.
All are not strong alike through storms to steer
Right onward. What? though dread of threatened death
And dungeon torture made thy hand and breath 10
Inconstant to the truth within thy heart!
That truth, from which, through fear, thou twice didst start,
Fear haply told thee, was a learned strife,
Or not so vital as to claim thy life:
And myriads had reached Heaven, who never knew 15
Where lay the difference 'twixt the false and true!

Ye, who secure 'mid trophies not your own,
Judge him who won them when he stood alone,
And proudly talk of recreant Berengare--
O first the age, and then the man compare! 20
That age how dark! congenial minds how rare!
No host of friends with kindred zeal did burn!
No throbbing hearts awaited his return!
Prostrate alike when prince and peasant fell,
He only disenchanted from the spell, 25
Like the weak worm that gems the starless night,
Moved in the scanty circlet of his light:
And was it strange if he withdrew the ray
That did but guide the night-birds to their prey?

The ascending day-star with a bolder eye 30
Hath lit each dew-drop on our trimmer lawn!
Yet not for this, if wise, shall we decry
The spots and struggles of the timid Dawn;
Lest so we tempt th' approaching Noon to scorn
The mists and painted vapours of our Morn. 35

? 1826.

FOOTNOTES:

[460:2] First published in the _Literary Souvenir_, 1827. The _Epitaphium Testamentarium_ (vide _post_, p. 462) is printed in a footnote to the word 'Berengarius'. Included in 1828, 1829, and 1834.

LINENOTES:

[13] learned] _learned_ L. S.

[19] recreant] _recreant_ L. S., 1828, 1829.

[23] his] _his_ L. S.

[32] shall] will L. S., 1828, 1829.

[34] th' approaching] the coming L. S.

EPITAPHIUM TESTAMENTARIUM[462:1]

Τὸ τοῦ ἜΣΤΗΣΕ τοῦ ἐπιθανοῦς Epitaphium testamentarium αὐτόγραφον.

Quae linquam, aut nihil, aut nihili, aut vix sunt mea. Sordes
Do Morti: reddo caetera, Christe! tibi.

1826.

Ἔρως ἀεὶ λάληθρος ἑταῖρος[462:2]

In many ways does the full heart reveal
The presence of the love it would conceal;
But in far more th' estrangéd heart lets know
The absence of the love, which yet it fain would shew.

1826.

FOOTNOTES:

[462:1] First published in _Literary Souvenir_ of 1827, as footnote to title of the _Lines Suggested by the Last Words of Berengarius_: included in _Literary Remains_, 1836, i. 60: first collected in 1844.

[462:2] This quatrain was prefixed as a motto to 'Prose in Rhyme; and Epigrams, Moralities, and Things without a Name', the concluding section of 'Poems' in the edition of 1828, 1829, vol. ii, pp. 75-117. It was prefixed to 'Miscellaneous Poems' in 1834, vol. ii, pp. 55-152, and to 'Poems written in Later Life', 1852, pp. 319-78.

LINENOTES:

Title] ΕΠΙΤΑΦΙΟΝ ΑΥΤΟΓΡΑΠΤΟΝ L. R., 1844: ἐπιθανοῦς] ἐπιδανοὺς L. S.

The emendation ἐπιθανοῦς (i. e. moribund) was suggested by the Reader of Macmillan's edition of 1893. Other alternatives, e. g. ἐπιδευοῦς (the lacking), to the word as misprinted in the Literary Souvenir have been suggested, but there can be no doubt that what Coleridge intended to imply was that he was near his end.

Greek motto: Ἔρως ἀεὶ λάλος MS. S. T. C.

[1-4]

In many ways I own do we reveal.
The Presence of the Love we would conceal,
But in how many more do we let know
The absence of the Love we found would show.

MS. S. T. C.

THE IMPROVISATORE[462:3]

OR, 'JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO, JOHN'

_Scene--A spacious drawing-room, with music-room adjoining._

_Katharine._ What are the words?

_Eliza._ Ask our friend, the Improvisatore; here he comes. Kate has a favour to ask of you, Sir; it is that you will repeat the ballad[463:1] that Mr. ---- sang so sweetly.

_Friend._ It is in Moore's Irish Melodies; but I do not recollect the words distinctly. The moral of them, however, I take to be this:--

Love would remain the same if true,
When we were neither young nor new;
Yea, and in all within the will that came,
By the same proofs would show itself the same.

_Eliz._ What are the lines you repeated from Beaumont and Fletcher, which my mother admired so much? It begins with something about two vines so close that their tendrils intermingle.

_Fri._ You mean Charles' speech to Angelina, in _The Elder Brother_[463:2].

We'll live together, like two neighbour vines,
Circling our souls and loves in one another!
We'll spring together, and we'll bear one fruit;
One joy shall make us smile, and one grief mourn;
One age go with us, and one hour of death
Shall close our eyes, and one grave make us happy.

_Kath._ A precious boon, that would go far to reconcile one to old age--this love--_if_ true! But is there any such true love?

_Fri._ I hope so.

_Kath._ But do you believe it?

_Eliz._ (_eagerly_). I am sure he does.

_Fri._ From a man turned of fifty, Katharine, I imagine, expects a less confident answer.

_Kath._ A more sincere one, perhaps.

_Fri._ Even though he should have obtained the nick-name of Improvisatore, by perpetrating charades and extempore verses at Christmas times?

_Eliz._ Nay, but be serious.

_Fri._ Serious! Doubtless. A grave personage of my years giving a Love-lecture to two young ladies, cannot well be otherwise. The difficulty, I suspect, would be for them to remain so. It will be asked whether I am not the 'elderly gentleman' who sate 'despairing beside a clear stream', with a willow for his wig-block.

_Eliz._ Say another word, and we will call it downright affectation.

_Kath._ No! we will be affronted, drop a courtesy, and ask pardon for our presumption in expecting that Mr. ---- would waste his sense on two insignificant girls.

_Fri._ Well, well, I will be serious. Hem! Now then commences the discourse; Mr. Moore's song being the text. Love, as distinguished from Friendship, on the one hand, and from the passion that too often usurps its name, on the other--

_Lucius_ (_Eliza's brother, who had just joined the trio, in a whisper to the Friend_). But is not Love the union of both?

_Fri._ (_aside to Lucius_). He never loved who thinks so.

_Eliz._ Brother, we don't want _you_. There! Mrs. H. cannot arrange the flower vase without you. Thank you, Mrs. Hartman.

_Luc._ I'll have my revenge! I know what I will say!

_Eliz._ Off! Off! Now, dear Sir,--Love, you were saying--

_Fri._ Hush! _Preaching_, you mean, Eliza.

_Eliz._ (_impatiently_). Pshaw!

_Fri._ Well then, I was _saying_ that Love, truly such, is itself not the most common thing in the world: and mutual love still less so. But that enduring personal attachment, so beautifully delineated by Erin's sweet melodist, and still more touchingly, perhaps, in the well-known ballad, 'John Anderson, my Jo, John,' in addition to a depth and constancy of character of no every-day occurrence, supposes a peculiar sensibility and tenderness of nature; a constitutional communicativeness and _utterancy_ of heart and soul; a delight in the detail of sympathy, in the outward and visible signs of the sacrament within--to count, as it were, the pulses of the life of love. But above all, it supposes a soul which, even in the pride and summer-tide of life--even in the lustihood of health and strength, had felt oftenest and prized highest that which age cannot take away and which, in all our lovings, is _the_ Love;--

_Eliz._ There is something _here_ (_pointing to her heart_) that _seems_ to understand you, but wants the _word_ that would make it understand itself.

_Kath._ I, too, seem to _feel_ what you mean. Interpret the feeling for us.

_Fri._ ---- I mean that _willing_ sense of the insufficingness of the _self_ for itself, which predisposes a generous nature to see, in the total being of another, the supplement and completion of its own;--that quiet perpetual _seeking_ which the presence of the beloved object modulates, not suspends, where the heart momently finds, and, finding, again seeks on;--lastly, when 'life's changeful orb has pass'd the full', a confirmed faith in the nobleness of humanity, thus brought home and pressed, as it were, to the very bosom of hourly experience; it supposes, I say, a heartfelt reverence for worth, not the less deep because divested of its solemnity by habit, by familiarity, by mutual infirmities, and even by a feeling of modesty which will arise in delicate minds, when they are conscious of possessing the same or the correspondent excellence in their own characters. In short, there must be a mind, which, while it feels the beautiful and the excellent in the beloved as its own, and by right of love appropriates it, can call Goodness its Playfellow; and dares make sport of time and infirmity, while, in the person of a thousand-foldly endeared partner, we feel for aged Virtue the caressing fondness that belongs to the Innocence of childhood, and repeat the same attentions and tender courtesies which had been dictated by the same affection to the same object when attired in feminine loveliness or in manly beauty.

_Eliz._ What a soothing--what an elevating idea!

_Kath._ If it be not only an _idea_.

_Fri._ At all events, these qualities which I have enumerated, are rarely found united in a single individual. How much more rare must it be, that two such individuals should meet together in this wide world under circumstances that admit of their union as Husband and Wife. A person may be highly estimable on the whole, nay, amiable as neighbour, friend, housemate--in short, in all the concentric circles of attachment save only the last and inmost; and yet from how many causes be estranged from the highest perfection in this! Pride, coldness, or fastidiousness of nature, worldly cares, an anxious or ambitious disposition, a passion for display, a sullen temper,--one or the other--too often proves 'the dead fly in the compost of spices', and any one is enough to unfit it for the precious balm of unction. For some mighty good sort of people, too, there is not seldom a sort of solemn saturnine, or, if you will, _ursine_ vanity, that keeps itself alive by sucking the paws of its own self-importance. And as this high sense, or rather sensation of their own value is, for the most part, grounded on negative qualities, so they have no better means of preserving the same but by _negatives_--that is, by _not_ doing or saying any thing, that might be put down for fond, silly, or nonsensical;--or (to use their own phrase) by _never forgetting themselves_, which some of their acquaintance are uncharitable enough to think the most worthless object they could be employed in remembering.

_Eliz._ (_in answer to a whisper from Katharine_). To a hair! He must have sate for it himself. Save me from such folks! But they are out of the question.

_Fri._ True! but the same effect is produced in thousands by the too general insensibility to a very important truth; this, namely, that the MISERY of human life is made up of large masses, each separated from the other by certain intervals. One year, the death of a child; years after, a failure in trade; after another longer or shorter interval, a daughter may have married unhappily;--in all but the singularly unfortunate, the integral parts that compose the sum total of the unhappiness of a man's life, are easily counted, and distinctly remembered. The HAPPINESS of life, on the contrary, is made up of minute fractions--the little, soon-forgotten charities of a kiss, a smile, a kind look, a heartfelt compliment in the disguise of playful raillery, and the countless other infinitesimals of pleasurable thought and genial feeling.

_Kath._ Well, Sir; you have said quite enough to make me despair of finding a 'John Anderson, my Jo, John', with whom to totter down the hill of life.

_Fri._ Not so! Good men are not, I trust, so much scarcer than good women, but that what another would find in you, you may hope to find in another. But well, however, may that boon be rare, the possession of which would be more than an adequate reward for the rarest virtue.

_Eliz._ Surely, he, who has described it so well, must have possessed it?

_Fri._ If he were worthy to have possessed it, and had believingly anticipated and not found it, how bitter the disappointment!

(_Then, after a pause of a few minutes_).

ANSWER, _ex improviso_

Yes, yes! that boon, life's richest treat
He had, or fancied that he had;
Say, 'twas but in his own conceit--
The fancy made him glad!
Crown of his cup, and garnish of his dish! 5
The boon, prefigured in his earliest wish,
The fair fulfilment of his poesy,
When his young heart first yearn'd for sympathy!
But e'en the meteor offspring of the brain
Unnourished wane; 10
Faith asks her daily bread,
And Fancy must be fed!
Now so it chanced--from wet or dry,
It boots not how--I know not why--
She missed her wonted food; and quickly 15
Poor Fancy stagger'd and grew sickly.
Then came a restless state, 'twixt yea and nay,
His faith was fix'd, his heart all ebb and flow;
Or like a bark, in some half-shelter'd bay,
Above its anchor driving to and fro. 20

That boon, which but to have possess'd
In a _belief_, gave life a zest--
Uncertain both what it _had_ been,
And if by error lost, or luck;
And what it _was_;--an evergreen 25
Which some insidious blight had struck,
Or annual flower, which, past its blow,
No vernal spell shall e'er revive;
Uncertain, and afraid to know,
Doubts toss'd him to and fro: 30
Hope keeping Love, Love Hope alive,
Like babes bewildered in a snow,
That cling and huddle from the cold
In hollow tree or ruin'd fold.

Those sparkling colours, once his boast 35
Fading, one by one away,
Thin and hueless as a ghost,
Poor Fancy on her sick bed lay;
Ill at distance, worse when near,
Telling her dreams to jealous Fear! 40
Where was it then, the sociable sprite
That crown'd the Poet's cup and deck'd his dish!
Poor shadow cast from an unsteady wish,
Itself a substance by no other right
But that it intercepted Reason's light; 45
It dimm'd his eye, it darken'd on his brow,
A peevish mood, a tedious time, I trow!
Thank Heaven! 'tis not so now.

O bliss of blissful hours!
The boon of Heaven's decreeing, 50
While yet in Eden's bowers
Dwelt the first husband and his sinless mate!
The one sweet plant, which, piteous Heaven agreeing,
They bore with them thro' Eden's closing gate!
Of life's gay summer tide the sovran Rose! 55
Late autumn's Amaranth, that more fragrant blows
When Passion's flowers all fall or fade;
If this were ever his, in outward being,
Or but his own true love's projected shade,
Now that at length by certain proof he knows, 60
That whether real or a magic show,
Whate'er it _was_, it _is_ no longer so;
Though heart be lonesome, Hope laid low,
Yet, Lady! deem him not unblest:
The certainty that struck Hope dead, 65
Hath left Contentment in her stead:
And that is next to Best!

1827.

FOOTNOTES:

[462:3] First published in the _Amulet_ for 1828 (with a prose introduction entitled 'New Thoughts on Old Subjects; or Conversational Dialogues on Interests and Events of Common Life.' By S. T. Coleridge): included in 1829 and 1834. The text of 1834 is identical with that of the _Amulet_, 1828, but the italics in the prose dialogue were not reproduced. They have been replaced in the text of the present issue. The title may have been suggested by L. E. L.'s _Improvisatrice_ published in 1824.

[463:1] 'Believe me if all those endearing young charms.'

[463:2] See Beaumont and Fletcher, _The Elder Brother_, Act III, Scene v. In the original the lines are printed as prose. In line 1 of the quotation Coleridge has substituted 'neighbour' for 'wanton', and in line 6, 'close' for 'shut'.

TO MARY PRIDHAM[468:1]

[AFTERWARDS MRS. DERWENT COLERIDGE]

Dear tho' unseen! tho' I have left behind
Life's gayer views and all that stirs the mind,
Now I revive, Hope making a new start,
Since I have heard with most believing heart,
That all my glad eyes would grow bright to see, 5
My Derwent hath found realiz'd in thee,
The boon prefigur'd in his earliest wish
Crown of his cup and garnish of his dish!
The fair fulfilment of his poesy,
When his young heart first yearn'd for sympathy! 10
Dear tho' unseen! unseen, yet long portray'd!
A Father's blessing on thee, gentle Maid!
S. T. COLERIDGE.

_16th October_ 1827.

FOOTNOTES:

[468:1] First published in 1893. Lines 7-10 are borrowed from lines 5-8 of the 'Answer _ex improviso_', which forms part of the _Improvisatore_ (ll. 7, 8 are transposed). An original MS. is inscribed on the first page of an album presented to Mrs. Derwent Coleridge on her marriage, by her husband's friend, the Reverend John Moultrie. The editor of _P. W._, 1893, printed from another MS. dated Grove, Highgate, 15th October, 1827.

LINENOTES:

Title]: To Mary S. Pridham MS. S. T. C.

[1-3]

Dear tho' unseen! tho' hard has been my lot
And rough my path thro' life, I murmur not--
Rather rejoice--

MS. S. T. C.

[5] That all this shaping heart has yearned to see MS. S. T. C.

[8] his] the MS. S. T. C. his] the MS. S. T. C.

ALICE DU CLOS[469:1]

OR THE FORKED TONGUE

A BALLAD

'One word with two meanings is the traitor's shield and shaft:
and a slit tongue be his blazon!'--_Caucasian Proverb._

'The Sun is not yet risen,
But the dawn lies red on the dew:
Lord Julian has stolen from the hunters away,
Is seeking, Lady! for you.
Put on your dress of green, 5
Your buskins and your quiver:
Lord Julian is a hasty man,
Long waiting brook'd he never.
I dare not doubt him, that he means
To wed you on a day, 10
Your lord and master for to be,
And you his lady gay.
O Lady! throw your book aside!
I would not that my Lord should chide.'

Thus spake Sir Hugh the vassal knight 15
To Alice, child of old Du Clos,
As spotless fair, as airy light
As that moon-shiny doe,
The gold star on its brow, her sire's ancestral crest!
For ere the lark had left his nest, 20
She in the garden bower below
Sate loosely wrapt in maiden white,
Her face half drooping from the sight,
A snow-drop on a tuft of snow!

O close your eyes, and strive to see 25
The studious maid, with book on knee,--
Ah! earliest-open'd flower;
While yet with keen unblunted light
The morning star shone opposite
The lattice of her bower-- 30
Alone of all the starry host,
As if in prideful scorn
Of flight and fear he stay'd behind,
To brave th' advancing morn.

O! Alice could read passing well, 35
And she was conning then
Dan Ovid's mazy tale of loves,
And gods, and beasts, and men.

The vassal's speech, his taunting vein,
It thrill'd like venom thro' her brain; 40
Yet never from the book
She rais'd her head, nor did she deign
The knight a single look.

'Off, traitor friend! how dar'st thou fix
Thy wanton gaze on me? 45
And why, against my earnest suit,
Does Julian send by thee?
'Go, tell thy Lord, that slow is sure:
Fair speed his shafts to-day!
I follow here a stronger lure, 50
And chase a gentler prey.'

She said: and with a baleful smile
The vassal knight reel'd off--
Like a huge billow from a bark
Toil'd in the deep sea-trough, 55
That shouldering sideways in mid plunge,
Is travers'd by a flash.
And staggering onward, leaves the ear
With dull and distant crash.

And Alice sate with troubled mien 60
A moment; for the scoff was keen,
And thro' her veins did shiver!
Then rose and donn'd her dress of green,
Her buskins and her quiver.

There stands the flow'ring may-thorn tree! 65
From thro' the veiling mist you see
The black and shadowy stem;--
Smit by the sun the mist in glee
Dissolves to lightsome jewelry--
Each blossom hath its gem! 70

With tear-drop glittering to a smile,
The gay maid on the garden-stile
Mimics the hunter's shout.
'Hip! Florian, hip! To horse, to horse!
Go, bring the palfrey out. 75

'My Julian's out with all his clan.
And, bonny boy, you wis,
Lord Julian is a hasty man,
Who comes late, comes amiss.'

Now Florian was a stripling squire, 80
A gallant boy of Spain,
That toss'd his head in joy and pride,
Behind his Lady fair to ride,
But blush'd to hold her train.

The huntress is in her dress of green,-- 85
And forth they go; she with her bow,
Her buskins and her quiver!--
The squire--no younger e'er was seen--
With restless arm and laughing een,
He makes his javelin quiver. 90

And had not Ellen stay'd the race,
And stopp'd to see, a moment's space,
The whole great globe of light
Give the last parting kiss-like touch
To the eastern ridge, it lack'd not much, 95
They had o'erta'en the knight.

It chanced that up the covert lane,
Where Julian waiting stood,
A neighbour knight prick'd on to join
The huntsmen in the wood. 100

And with him must Lord Julian go,
Tho' with an anger'd mind:
Betroth'd not wedded to his bride,
In vain he sought, 'twixt shame and pride,
Excuse to stay behind. 105

He bit his lip, he wrung his glove,
He look'd around, he look'd above,
But pretext none could find or frame.
Alas! alas! and well-a-day!
It grieves me sore to think, to say, 110
That names so seldom meet with Love,
Yet Love wants courage without a name!

Straight from the forest's skirt the trees
O'er-branching, made an aisle,
Where hermit old might pace and chaunt 115
As in a minster's pile.

From underneath its leafy screen,
And from the twilight shade,
You pass at once into a green,
A green and lightsome glade. 120

And there Lord Julian sate on steed;
Behind him, in a round,
Stood knight and squire, and menial train;
Against the leash the greyhounds strain;
The horses paw'd the ground. 125

When up the alley green, Sir Hugh
Spurr'd in upon the sward,
And mute, without a word, did he
Fall in behind his lord.

Lord Julian turn'd his steed half round,-- 130
'What! doth not Alice deign
To accept your loving convoy, knight?
Or doth she fear our woodland sleight,
And join us on the plain?'

With stifled tones the knight replied, 135
And look'd askance on either side,--
'Nay, let the hunt proceed!--
The Lady's message that I bear,
I guess would scantly please your ear,
And less deserves your heed. 140

'You sent betimes. Not yet unbarr'd
I found the middle door;--
Two stirrers only met my eyes,
Fair Alice, and one more.

'I came unlook'd for; and, it seem'd, 145
In an unwelcome hour;
And found the daughter of Du Clos
Within the lattic'd bower.

'But hush! the rest may wait. If lost,
No great loss, I divine; 150
And idle words will better suit
A fair maid's lips than mine.'

'God's wrath! speak out, man,' Julian cried,
O'ermaster'd by the sudden smart;--
And feigning wrath, sharp, blunt, and rude, 155
The knight his subtle shift pursued.--
'Scowl not at me; command my skill,
To lure your hawk back, if you will,
But not a woman's heart.

'"Go! (said she) tell him,--slow is sure; 160
Fair speed his shafts to-day!
I follow here a stronger lure,
And chase a gentler prey."

'The game, pardie, was full in sight,
That then did, if I saw aright, 165
The fair dame's eyes engage;
For turning, as I took my ways,
I saw them fix'd with steadfast gaze
Full on her wanton page.'

The last word of the traitor knight 170
It had but entered Julian's ear,--
From two o'erarching oaks between,
With glist'ning helm-like cap is seen,
Borne on in giddy cheer,

A youth, that ill his steed can guide; 175
Yet with reverted face doth ride,
As answering to a voice,
That seems at once to laugh and chide--
'Not mine, dear mistress,' still he cried,
''Tis this mad filly's choice.' 180

With sudden bound, beyond the boy,
See! see! that face of hope and joy,
That regal front! those cheeks aglow!
Thou needed'st but the crescent sheen,
A quiver'd Dian to have been, 185
Thou lovely child of old Du Clos!

Dark as a dream Lord Julian stood,
Swift as a dream, from forth the wood,
Sprang on the plighted Maid!
With fatal aim, and frantic force, 190
The shaft was hurl'd!--a lifeless corse,
Fair Alice from her vaulting horse,
Lies bleeding on the glade.

? 1828.

FOOTNOTES: